A little over two years ago, I experienced one of those pivotal moments that told me: something has to change! It had been a relatively small trigger, but a powerful one nonetheless. Straight back to childhood, to those old wounds. It was then, a rainy day in June, that I decided to look for a therapist.
Up until that day, I had thought many times,“sure, therapy sounds cool, I‘ll do it one day.“ But there had also been those other thoughts: “Therapy? Me? Why?“ I had never been beaten or raped, and I didn't have to flee from war or poverty either. Whatever I might carry around inside of me, it didn‘t deserve to be called trauma - that's what thought. Just little things, nothing else.
One of the most fascinating aspects about life, at least for me, are the countless perspectives – one situation, one billion views. Friends have stared at me in great disbelief when I told them that my life is pretty normal and that there isn‘t really anything worth going to therapy for. I wonder how many people feel similarly.
So I ignored friends and that nagging voice inside of me as good as I could, for many years – until that day in June when life looked me in the eye and said: It‘s time!
Two years and 101 one-to-one sessions later, I am probably more broken than ever before. I still get triggered by seemingly little things, my fears haven‘t gone, and I am not enlightened either. There have been moments, more than once, when I wondered why I‘ve bothered spending all this time and money on talking to a stranger once a week.
But of course the story doesn‘t end here. I am happy that I feel broken, because a part of me is exactly that: broken. Every day I accept it a little more, and I don‘t expect it to heal and disappear. Most probably it will be a lifelong process, letting go of trying to change what can‘t be changed. And it‘s okay that there is something broken in me. On good days I even listen and learn from it.
Still getting triggered isn‘t fun, but awareness helps. “I am getting all my drama buttons pushed, this is what is happening.“ Fine. This is actually something therapy has really been helpful with. To get out of the judgement role and acknowledging what is. A good friend could do the same, but a good therapist is likely to be more honest. And without honesty, there's no chance for awareness, healing or self-acceptance.
The fears haven‘t gone? It was never the goal to get rid of fears. It‘s like trying to get rid of sadness, or happiness. If we got rid of our deepest emotions, AI would have won.
And enlightenment? Indeed, therapy has helped to make many dark corners more visible. But it‘s impossible to shed light on all the darkness, otherwise the light would cease to exist as well. So enlightenment can only ever be partial, it can only be a step on an infinite path.
My experience with long-term therapy is that it hasn‘t solved all of my problems and turned me into a perfectly sane being, but it has provided a different, very valuable perspective. To me, my therapist was like a friendly ghost who hovered next to me for a while, looking over my shoulder, making some powerful reflections, and offering gentle questions and suggestions. Afterwards, it was the same as with thought-provoking films, inspirational books, astrology readings, or any other self-development tools: In the end, it‘s always me who decides which path to take – and how to walk it.
In our last session, at least the last one for the time being, number 101, my therapist and I were talking about the different episodes of life we go through. Difficult ones, scary ones, fun ones; those which pass quickly and those which feel like they will last forever. And many of those episodes are recurrent. Like orbiting planets, they exist in cycles, bringing up all the wanted and unwanted familiar stuff, over and over again, in different shapes and forms.
And then my therapist said something that has stuck with me ever since. It was the perfect closing comment after two years of sharing joys and sorrows, of telling stories of archaic battles and of falling madly in love. Here‘s what she said:
There aren‘t any episodes.
There‘s only life.
PS: I‘ve once heard someone comparing the intensity of spending one night with the sacred plant medicine Ayahuasca to one hundred therapy sessions condensed to a few hours. Having done both now, I think it‘s a valid comparison. None is better, both are precious.
